The Luminous Dead

by Caitlin Starling

Gyre slipped her hand from Em’s, set the card aside, and reached up to cup Em’s cheek. Em slid from the table, going down on her knees in front of Gyre. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she confessed. “But I can’t do it again. I can’t base my life around an obsession. I can’t follow you down into that cave, I can’t give up, I can’t—” “I’m not asking you to give up.” Gyre leaned down despite the pain and kissed Em, the briefest contact, sensation arcing down her spine. This was the woman who’d put her in that suit, who’d sent her down chasing ghosts knowing it would likely end in death, but who also had refused to let her die, over and over again. Em had fought for her even though death was Em’s thesis, was her conclusion, was the only thing that should have waited for Gyre. Even though the twisted rot that had destroyed so much had already destroyed the both of them, almost to the core. Gyre could see it, though: a small fleck of humanity, surrounded by a shell of pain that was beginning to crack, beginning to give way. And she couldn’t be certain, when she got down to that point, whether she was thinking of herself or Em. They both had two options: fester and die, or take what they were given and grow. “I’m asking,” Gyre said, pulling back only a few centimeters and meeting Em’s gaze, “for you to try.”